Defenceless Creatures
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Spoilers for season 1. Throughout the war, Saru takes care of Captain Lorca's pet tribble.


Defenceless Creatures

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Discovery_

Copyright: CBS

/

Saru was quite startled the first time he realized that the furball on Captain Lorca's desk was alive.

It let out a high-pitched trill that fell sharply on Saru's Kelpian hearing. He flinched.

"It's just a tribble, Mr. Saru. Totally harmless." Lorca chuckled, a friendly sound, but with an undercurrent of contempt. "Don't tell me you've never seen a tribble before."

"I've heard of them, sir," said Saru stiffly, "I just wasn't expecting to see a live specimen in your ready room. Wouldn't their rate of reproduction be disruptive aboard a starship?"

"Don't worry. This one's neutered." Lorca tousled the creature's gray fur. It twitched in its basket and squeaked a protest.

 _Neutered._ Saru tensed. As a member of a species that had been selectively bred by their overlords for centuries, he did not react well to words like that. "Why, Captain? I mean to say, what purpose does a neutered tribble serve?"

"Therapy pet. Admiral Cornwell gave it to me. No harm in letting these shrinks believe they're being useful, eh?" Lorca winked.

Saru pulled his features into what he hoped was a polite smile. "Admiral Cornwell is always most considerate."

"Oh yeah, Kat's a great girl."

Saru took another look inside the basket. The tribble was small enough to fit in a human hand, and had no visible limbs or even sensory organs. What kind of species evolved this way? How would they run from predators, or even sense them coming? Their rapid reproduction was probably the only means they had of ensuring their species' survival, and even that had been taken away. All so that some ungrateful carnivore could keep it trapped on his desk and listen to the sounds it made. This was the most defenseless life form Saru had ever seen.

"May I?" He let his hand hover above the basket.

"Be my guest."

Saru stroked the tribble's round, warm body as lightly as possible. Its fur was as soft as the moss that grew in Kelpien caves. It trilled, and this time, almost as if it knew – but how could it know? – the sound was deeper, quieter, almost musical.

Correction: it wasn't quite defenseless after all. Even carnivores would have to think twice before destroying such beauty.

Saru started peppering his captain with all the questions he could think of about tribbles: their origin, their biology, and how to properly care for them. He knew already that he and Lorca would never have the traditional comradeship between captain and first officer – Saru could never be comrades with a man who collected weapons - but at least this could be something they had in common.

/

Of all the many duties that fell to Saru as acting captain, taking care of the tribble was one of the easiest. He fed it with replicated grain, cleaned the waste out of its basket, brushed its fur, and brought it to Sickbay for regular checkups. He also petted it often, especially since Dr. Culber had told him that tribbles needed affection as much as food. He also talked to it when he felt particularly lost, something he would never admit to a living soul.

"I don't know what to do, my dear," he'd whisper, holding it between his cupped hands. "If Burnham and Lorca can't find that data … if Stamets doesn't recover … I don't see how I can possibly protect the crew in this brutal universe. I'm nothing like your master, little one. I'm not a warrior. I'm all wrong for this job, I … oh, gods, I'm so afraid."

He'd squeeze his eyes shut and open them again to clear away the tears, try to keep his hands from trembling, and listen to the tribble's song until he could at least think clearly again.

/

"This is _my_ office now, Kelpien," sneered the Emperor, standing with her hands on the doorframe of the ready room.

"Certainly, Captain." It made Saru's ganglia itch to show this woman the same respect his own Captain Georgiou had earned through her wisdom and compassion, but until this mission was complete, he'd have to do it. "I'm merely clearing out my possessions to make room for yours."

Not that there were many possessions. He had never dared to make himself too comfortable in what he still thought of as Lorca's room. Besides his tricorder and data padd, there was really just one thing: the tribble.

Legally speaking, Saru was not sure if the animal was really his. Now that Lorca was dead (stabbed in the back by the Emperor with a sword, according to Burnham's report), his former pet should go to whomever he had named in his will, or failing specifics, to his next of kin. But in the meantime, Saru was damned if he'd leave his small friend alone with the Terran.

He took a bag of grain out of a desk drawer, put it into the basket along with the water bowl, and tucked the whole thing into the crook of one long arm. The tribble – perhaps judiciously - stayed quiet.

The Emperor, instead of moving aside to let Saru pass, peered into the basket and wrinkled her nose. "Your pet? Hmph. I see vermin flocks together. In my universe, those creatures were exterminated centuries ago."

She reached out with one long-nailed hand. Saru clapped a data padd on top of the basket (making sure enough breathing room remained) and lifted it higher in his grip.

"In _this_ universe, tribbles are highly valued for the therapeutic qualities of their song. Many members of this crew are fond of this one … including Specialist Burnham."

This was not quite true – he'd never seen Burnham notice the tribble one way or another – but surely the woman who had argued so eloquently for the freedom of Ripper the tardigrade wouldn't allow the Emperor to "exterminate" another innocent life form. Besides, if there was any threat that might carry weight with the Terran, it was losing face in front of her so-called daughter.

He drew himself up to his full height, hoping to make his message clear. _I may be prey, but I am not defenseless. You will not harm one hair on this tribble's body._

The Emperor raised her eyes to the ceiling with contempt, as if the whole topic wasn't even worth her while. But she stood back to let Saru and his basket through the door without further comment.

Saru carried the basket to his quarters and left it there, guarded by as many security measures as the ship's systems would allow.

/

After finishing their mission on Q'ronos (as unexpected as the result had been), Acting Captain Saru had ordered one small detour before their return to Earth, and Admiral Cornwell had permitted it with the hint of a smile on her face.

The sensors in the transporter room showed that the tribbles' homeworld was a lush, thriving ecosystem, full of fresh plants to eat and soil to burrow into, as well as many other animal species. Saru knew he was doing the right thing … still, he hadn't expected this small gesture to garner such an audience. Specialist Burnham, Lieutenant Stamets and Cadet Tilly had all asked for (or simply assumed) the chance to say goodbye.

As they handed the little creature back and forth between them, it trilled more musically than ever, as if determined to repay their affection by giving them a song to remember.

"Oh, sir, are you sure about this?" asked Tilly, holding it up against her cheek. "What if the poor thing gets eaten down there?"

"That is the way of life, Cadet," said Saru, with a sternness he didn't quite feel. "It's still better to die free than in captivity. We prey species understand that."

"Wild things should stay wild," said Burnham softly, and Saru wondered if she was thinking of the tardigrade, the Emperor, Lieutenant Tyler or herself.

"So long, fuzzball," said Stamets, petting the tribble so casually, no one would ever guess that he had shed tears on it when Saru had called him into the ready room to discuss Dr. Culber's memorial.

"Stay safe and keep singing, little one," said Saru as he placed it in the center of the transporter platform. It nuzzled his fingers and tried to wriggle after him, but he gave the order to Tilly before it could move out of range. "Energize."

It dematerialized in a beam of golden light.

Tilly sobbed. Stamets put his arm around her. As they left the room to return to their stations at the science lab, Burnham came over to stand next to Saru, watching the beam with a small frown between her eyebrows.

"There goes the last trace of Gabriel Lorca," she said. "The last tangible one, anyway."

"Yes, well … I wish the intangible traces were as simple to deal with."

He looked down at his former rival with compassion, wondering how she'd react if he showed it. She looked up at him, her Vulcan-trained mask cracking for a second to reveal unhappy eyes and a tight jaw, but soon looked away.

"He lied to me," she said. "He lied to us all … he groomed my counterpart to be his future wife since she was just a child … he killed so many people and he would've killed Philippa too … " For the moment, it seemed to escape her that the Emperor wasn't theirPhilippa. "So why in hell," her voice wavered, "Do I still miss him? It doesn't make sense."

It made perfect sense to Saru. Lorca was the second captain who had been killed on their watch, and if there was anything Kelpiens understood, it was death. Death could tear people apart or bring them closer together; in the case of Georgiou and Lorca, who had been like parents to them both, it seemed to have made them brother and sister – whether they liked it or not.

"You're not the only one." He tucked his arm around his small comrade's shoulders. She raised an eyebrow, but did not protest; if anything, she leaned against him. How exhausted must she be? "I miss him too. I still expect him to demand his chair back any moment. Whoever gets assigned to replace him, _Discovery_ will never be the same."

"It should be you," said Burnham.

"Excuse me?"

"You more than earned it." She stepped out from under his arm to fix him with one of those knife-sharp glares that always made his threat ganglia shiver, even if he knew she wasn't angry withhim personally. "If the Admirals pass you over after everything you've done for this crew, they're completely without logic."

This unaccustomed support from the woman who had been used to criticizing his every move on the _Shenzhou_ almost knocked him sideways.

"But … but I could never be the leader Lorca was."

Lorca on the bridge during a crisis situation had been nothing less than a force of nature. Standing there with the Red-Alert-tinted viewport like a bloody halo behind him, ready to crush any obstacles in his way, he'd shown a supreme confidence that Saru could never quite live up to. He felt like an overgrown child whenever he sat in that chair.

"Of course not." Burnham rolled her eyes and gave Saru a surprisingly gentle pat on the arm. "You're so much better. Just look at the way you treated that tribble."

She marched off in the direction of the bridge at her fastest speed without looking back, as if the compliment embarrassed her as much as him.

Saru tilted his head, made a thoughtful clicking noise, and followed.


End file.
